Blind Leading Blind
by same.lame.name
Summary: What if the Killing Curse wasn't completely stopped by Lily's sacrifice? What if a little excess caused Harry to have a disability, and what if that disability could turn into "the power the Dark Lord knows not?" On HIATUS
1. Chapter 1

There are more opportunities to be foolish than wise, therefore there are more fools than wise men.

_"Hagrid,'" said Dumbledore, sounding relieved. "At last. And where did you get that motorcycle?"_

_"Borrowed it, Professor Dumbledore, sir," said the giant, climbing carefully off the motorcycle as he spoke. "Young Sirius Black lent it to me. I've got him, sir."_

_"No problems, were there?"_

_"No sir - house was almost destroyed, but I got him out all right before the Muggles started swarmin' around. He fell asleep as we were flyin' over Bristol."_

_Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall bent forward over the bundle of blankets. Inside, just visible, was a baby boy, fast asleep. Under a tuft of jet-black hair over his forehead they could see a curiously shaped cut, like a bolt of lightning._

_"Is that where - ?" whispered Professor McGonagall._

_"Yes," said Dumbledore. "He'll have that scar forever."_

_"Couldn't you do something about it, Dumbledore?"_

_"Even if I could, I wouldn't. Scars can come in handy. I have one myself above my left knee that is a perfect map of the London Underground. Well - give him Hagrid - we'd better get this over with."_

_Dumbledore took Harry in his arms and turned toward the Dursleys' house._

He paused, lost in an not-so-rare introspective moment, staring down at the young child, wondering exactly where it had gone so wrong. Not just the Potters, but just Wizarding World in general, that they had to be saved by a child barely past his first birthday from a mess that they should've cleaned up a long time ago, a problem they should've fixed eons ago.

Lifting his head Dumbledore gazed at the painful plainness of #4, Privet Drive, walking up and gently laying the infant saviour down on the gray steps.

The three stood there a second, staring contemplatively at the small boy, them simultaneously dispersed, McGonagall and Dumbledore Aparrating and Hagrid climbing on the great motorcycle, each to their own morbid thoughts.

As they turned, none of them noticed the small child open his eyes. Not noticing the creamy green color. Not see him look up, staring sightlessly into the sky.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Harry Potter lay dreaming, but what of he could never be sure. His dreams were dark, just like always, but a sense of feeling, almost like seeing, of the rumble of an engine and being on something sturdy. He felt very happy, not ecstatic, but content, as though he was listening to a favorite song he had almost forgotten.

"Get up!" said a demanding voice, and before Aunt Petunia could rap on his cupboard door he opened it, poking his face out and smiling at her, trying to startle her.

However, Aunt Petunia was not in the least bit startled. Her nephew had been doing the exact same thing since he was five. It was hard to be startled by the same thing after the hundred and fiftieth time.

"Good, you're up," she said in a voice that was dangerously close to amiable. "Get started on the bacon, will you? I'm setting up the decorations."

"Yes, Aunt Petunia," Harry said in a amused voice, which made Petunia unsure if she were being obeyed or laughed at. She shrugged. It wasn't the first time that his tone of voice had cropped up either. She just chose to ignore it.

Harry made his way confidently towards the kitchen, his head held in a slightly awkward way because he wasn't looking where he was going, because he couldn't see.

Yet, when one of Dudley's toys that Petunia had forgotten to pick up was in his path, he stepped over it as lightly as though it had been there his whole life. Petunia shook her head, not bothering to spend time pondering over her nephew's odd ability. His disability paid for Dudley's new bike, after all.

They got a stipend from the government which payed to send him to a special school for the blind. It was a good amount of money, and whatever they didn't spend on Harry (it was the cheapest blind school around) they kept for themselves. They also gave him all the chores, but he could do them, oddly enough. Even weeding the garden didn't present much of a challenge for her nephew. Even when she made him do them at night when the neighbors couldn't see him.

"Get the big pan out of the dishwasher," she instructed him, and felt disconcerted as his head kept staring straight ahead. Even after he had lived with them for nearly ten years she wasn't used to the way that he never turned his head towards noises or people. She was just glad that his messy bangs covered his face all the way down to his nose. Those pale green eyes just leaked freakiness.

"Yes, Aunt Petunia," Harry said, still slightly mockingly. He started on the bacon, expertly avoiding spitting grease while his face pointed distinctly away from the pan. They way he cooked you would've have never known that he was blind except he never looked at what he was doing.

Aunt Petunia busily started arranging as many of Dudley's presents as he could before he and Uncle Vernon came down a few minutes later. Dudley, smiling evilly, and threw a small ball at Harry, who, without even stopping flipping the bacon, reached out, grabbed the ball in mid flight, and popped it.

"Good morning, Dudley, Uncle Vernon," Harry said politely. Vernon ignored him, sitting down at the clearest space at the table and saying hello to his wife. Dudley, however, huffed, annoyed that his "sneak attack" hadn't worked on Harry again.

Harry noticed this, and smiled, carrying the plate bacon to last available space on the table while Dudley didn't even bother to count his presents before he fell on them. Harry sat down across from Dudley and started loading his plate with as much as he was allowed. Which was basically whatever was left over after Dudley had loaded his plate. More often than not it wasn't much. The telephone rang just as Dudley began to open his presents, and when Aunt Petunia came back he had already opened nearly half of them.

"Bad news, Vernon," she said. "Mrs. Figg can't take him." Harry blinked, though no one could see it. He wondered what had happened. He didn't particularly like Mrs. Figg. She always acted like she was seeing a ghost every time she saw him, and pitied him for his disability, which Harry hated, but that didn't mean he wanted to spend time with his relatives more.

"You could leave me here," he suggested, smiling, which had an odd effect since his mouth was the only feature of his face you could see clearly.

"And have a service worker come by and sue us for leaving you alone?" growled Vernon, the only words he had said to Harry all morning. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon discussed it, weighing the benefits of locking Harry in his cupboard versus taking them with him.

Harry couldn't care less either way. He had a nice little lock-picking kit in his cupboard, even though there was nothing to do in the house except read the few books in braille he had. Whatever allowed him "see" and sense if something in his path or coming towards him it only extended in a six meter radius, and technology didn't quite know what to do with, resulting in a large smear of fuzz where the TV should. If he went to the zoo he had much of the same problem, since the majority of animals weren't inclined to get within a mile, much less six meters of a dangerous human.

Half an hour later Dudley's friend had arrived and Harry had been thrown into the car with the rest of the family, off on their way to the zoo. They looked at the animals, or in Harry's case, didn't look at the animals. Dudley and his friend Piers practically dragged Harry with them everywhere, pretending to be leading him, because they knew that they could get free stuff if they used Harry as a guilt trip. Plus, Dudley knew that while his parents tolerated Harry's obvious unnatural ability to "see" while they were at home and it allowed them to have a slave that paidthem, it did not extend to when normal people could judge them. So Dudley dragged Harry around, explained what animals they were looking at, and even carried his tray when they stopped for lunch at the food court.

For Harry, it was worth going to the zoo just to have Duddley wait on him.

Of course, it all fell apart after lunch. Harry didn't particularly know what happened, but that was hardly unusual where he was concerned. A snake, one of the few animals he could see clearer than even a human, had escaped, though how Harry didn't know. He couldn't see, pardon the pun, why Dudley and Piers where really complaining about, anyway. The snake was nice enough, and it wasn't like he was the only one who understood it, right? That one got him confined to his cupboard for a month.

Snape scowled, staring at the abhorrently normal Muggle house, wishing with all his heart that Dumbledore hadn't explicitly asked him to do this errand. The old man knew that he hated the Potters, all Potters, and it was extremely stupid to send him when he would undoubtedly prejudice the boy against the Wizarding world. Snape wondered, not for the first time, if Dumbledore had finally lost his mind.

After all, the man was acting as though the last thing that he wanted was Harry Potter, Boy-Who-Lived, Saviour of the Wizarding World, to like Dumbledore, Supreme Mugwump, defeater of Grindlewald etc. etc, (It was hardly his job to keep with all the man's titles.) to even come back to the Wizarding World. He knew that McGonagall agreed with his assessment of his mental state, however. It was the only thing that they could agree on. Especially after he had wrangled the story of how the boy had come to live with Muggles.

Using a grimace he had perfected long ago, that showed anyone with a half a brain he was not happy, he walked up to the door, and with a barely audible gulp, and rang the doorbell.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

As for Harry, his birthday had been the day before, and it really hadn't been anything new. Another pair of Vernon's old socks, which he had figured out a long time ago were the perfect hiding place for things he did not want found, and one chore less than every other day of the week. Hurrah.

For now, Harry had finished cleaning up breakfast and had moved to sweeping the living room, cleaning around his cousin as he watched TV. Vernon was off to work, and Petunia was on the phone, and Harry knew that as long as his parents weren't watching, you could you could order Dudley to do pretty much anything and he would do it as long as he didn't have to take his eyes off the TV. Thus Harry took advantage of this.

"You know, Dudley," Harry said conversationally, pausing in his sweeping. "We need to set up some ground rules. You know, where I laze around for a while why you did some work." Dudley just grunted non-committably.

"Yeah, or we could both do the work, and then watch TV, though we might have to get another couch," stated Harry, eyeing the scrap of couch left over from Dudley's bulk.

"What're you watching, anyway?" asked Harry, who honestly didn't know. Dudley simply shrugged. He had gotten automatic non-committal gestures down to an art-form. Harry, just out of curiosity, started poking Dudley in the back of the head the end of the broom, just to make sure he hadn't died. It was rather unfortunate that it was right then that Petunia got off the phone.

"What are you doing?" she asked angrily, making both Harry and Dudley jump. Harry quickly stowed the broom behind his back, as though trying to make the offensive instrument disappear.

"Just making sure that Dudley was still alive, Aunt Petunia," Harry said, innocently as possible. Dudley nodded, not really willing to excite his mother's wrath. Vernon might've been quicker to anger, but when Petunia really got mad, even her husband dived for cover. Fortunately it was at that moment that the door bell rang. Harry took the opportunity to escape while Petunia fussed over Dudley, making sure that he hadn't sustained brain damage.

'Yeah, like brain damage is the biggest threat to Dudley's health. Brain damage would probably be an improvement,' Harry thought uncharitably as he opened the door to reveal the strangest person Harry had ever seen.

"Hey, wait I can actually see you!" Harry exclaimed, reaching his hand out, running it over the air an inch in front of the man's chest.

"Awesome," Harry said, smiling broadly, retracting his hand. The man, who had been standing stock-still through this entire event, broke out of his stupor and coughed to get Harry's attention. It certainly did, since the man didn't seem the coughing type to Harry.

"Are you Harry Potter?" the man asked obviously trying very hard to ignore this strange behavior, his face twisting as though looking at something disgusting on the bottom of his shoe. Harry frowned, and then reached up, waving his hand in front of the man's face. He was so small that he barely reached.

"I don't know if I should answer you," Harry answered, frowning. "You don't seem to like me that much. Why don't you tell me your name first?"

"My name is Severus Snape, and where I come from it is very rude to demand a person's name when they asked you first," Snape said in his most arrogant, intimidating voice. Harry merely smiled up at him and said:

"I don't come from there. You wanna come in?" Snape just stared at the door-frame before reluctantly entering.

"Hey, Aunt Petunia, this is Severus Snape. I don't know why he's here, but he's asking for me," Harry said as Snape followed him into the living room. Petunia turned from where she had examining Dudley's head and gasped.

"You're one of them!" she screeched. Harry took this as his cue to hide. After being blind and small for the majority of his life he was quite good at this. It proved to be a good move as Petunia threw Dudley out of the room shortly after.

"What are you doing here?"

"I'm here to take the boy to Hogwarts, Muggle," the man said, in the same arrogant tone as before.

"How can the boy go to that school? He's blind! You people are ridiculous!"

"B-bl-blind?" sputtered the man, completely and utterly shocked, something wholly unfamiliar to him.

"Blind? Dumbledore never mentioned," started Snape, before a strange light illuminated his eyes. "That old codger," he practically growled, gritting his teeth so hard they squeaked.

Harry decided this was not the way he wanted the conversation to go. He had no idea what a Hogwarts was, but he had learned a long time ago that if the Dursleys opposed it, it was usually exactly the kind of thing he would be interested in.

"Hey, don't I get a choice?" Harry demanded, and he felt the exact same feeling of loathing coming from both his Aunt and the man.

"Boy, we spend a great deal of money on you-"

"No you don't," Harry snorted. "Don't try to guilt trip me. I am a guilt trip, remember?" He walked over to one of the chairs that was facing the two adults and sat down, looking for all the world like a miniature mob leader, minus the goons, the cat, and the suit.

"So what is this Hogwarts place?" Aunt Petunia looked livid, but Severus, most likely unintentionally, started talking before she could.

"Hogwarts is the greatest school for Witchcraft and Wizardry in Europe," Snape said almost pleasantly, obviously still in shock. Harry meanwhile sat there, absorbing all the information that the man's one small sentence had given him. Suddenly a lot of things made a lot more sense.

"So I'm a wizard," he began slowly after a second. "And I can 'see' you very clearly, as clearly as I can see snakes. That means that you're a wizard too." It wasn't a question yet Snape began to sputter.

Harry ignored him, trying to fix all the pieces of the puzzle together by talking it out.

"I obviously, as it stands, cannot pay for it, and I doubt a regular bank would pay for a magical education. Or my Aunt and Uncle, for that matter. So that means that there must be another source paying for it. I've sent no application for such a school, so this all points to a third party, or the school," he paused in his reasoning.

"Is it common for a wizard to be blind?" he asked Snape.

"No, of course not you foolish boy. I'm not blind, am I?" snarled Snape, finally coming to his senses.

"I don't know. Are you?" Snape just went back to his sputtering, and Harry ignored him and his Aunt's ranting in the background.

"So Hogwarts is not a school especially for blind wizards?" Snape merely made a strangled noise which Harry took to be a no.

"That means that a blind wizard is something of a novelty, and even then you didn't know I was blind. It seems as though there is no school specifically set up for such a thing, so why Hogwarts? It must be something special either to do with me or the school. I doubt it could be me, except for the whole blind thing, so it must be the school." Harry nodded, decided. "Okay, I'll go to your school, but only because you asked nicely." Snape answered by trying to strangle the air in front of him.

Harry sighed. This was going to take a while.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

A/N

Okay, we have a little bit of sorting out to do. Yes the Dursleys, especially Dudley,are a lot nicer to Harry, though in no way will they ever be saints, and it is not my intention to present them as such. Vernon and Petunia are nicer because they had to take care of Harry for four years or so, while he was completely helpless. Then he began to help out, while they were still being paid for bringing him up, so they aren't quite as resentful. If you have a hard time believing this, I just figure that the Dursley's are very, very practical, even when it comes to magic. Plus they are very materialistic. Harry's a good slave, he doesn't use flashy magic, and he doesn't cause trouble.

No, Dumbledore is no more crazy here than he is in the books. Not exactly comforting, but its the best I can do...

Yeah, I know I promised I wouldn't start a second fanfic until I finished KoP, but what can I say? I lied. If its any consolation, I will try to work to get both updating, umm, more quickly than before.


	2. Things That Go BOOM

If Severus Snape was one thing, it was imperturbable. Playing both sides of a highly volatile war, being a Slytherin, and living through just about every prank that the Marauders could think of will do that to a person.

In fact, before he had had the misfortune of meeting one Harry Potter, there were really only two things he could think of that would shock him: Voldemort announcing to his Death Eaters that he was giving up the 'taking over the world' business and devoting the rest of his life to the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts office, and Dumbledore proclaiming his secret ambition was to own two fluffy bunny rabbits.

Actually, that second one was plausible...

However, that was before he met the Potter brat. How one person managed to be so full of energy and curiosity the man couldn't fathom.

One minute the child was inside a shop, dancing around customers to get a 'look' at the wares, the next he was five meters in the other direction, listening to a young wizard sprout nonsense about the rising costs of scarab legs, before helping another little old lady cross the street. And they hadn't even gotten to Gringotts yet! Honestly, if Severus didn't know better, he would've merely assumed by watching the boy that his vision was only slightly impaired by those ridiculous bangs covering his face to his nose. (For which hid Potter's scar, thank Merlin. He wasn't paid enough for that particular headache.)

The thing was that Snape couldn't figure out how he was doing it. The boy really was blind, that much he could tell with just a look at the milky white film covering what would otherwise be carbon copies of Lily's eyes. He had ran a few tests just to be sure, and they had merely reinforced this truth.

Deprived of any answer for the child's supernatural ability (which he shouldn't be too surprised at, being a wizard and all) Snape decided the best thing to do would be to simply watch and wait.

#8#8#88#8#88#8#8#8#8#8#88#8#88#8#8

Meanwhile, Harry was having the time of his life. He couldn't believe the sights, the shapes, the colors! It was like everything since he had begun to 'see' was covered in a veil, and now that had been ripped off. But that was only half of it.

It was the colors that really blew him away. He had 'seen' colors before, but only dully, and only if he was very familiar with the object. Now, there were colors everywhere. In the shops, on the streets, surrounding the people. Hell, the cobblestones of the Alley were brighter and more defined that anything that he had ever seen before.

By far, however, it was the people who were most colorful. More colors than he could've ever imagined swirled around them, growing and swelling, spiraling and fading, weaving in and out as they brush up against other people and shook their hands, flaring briefly as spells were preformed.

Fascinated by this, Harry decided to study the people around him, walking up to the witch or wizard if he found them particularly interesting. In fact, he was striking up a very engaging conversation about wands with this old lady who was surrounded by a pearly white cloud when Snape yanked him away, marching him towards Gringotts.

"What was that for?" Harry demanded, whining slightly.

"You are taking up entirely too much time," Snape snapped, stopping and turning to face the boy. "We are merely walking from the entrance of Diagon Alley," here he gestured towards the brick wall, "to Gringotts Bank, over there," he pointed again. "This walk, usually takes twelve minutes, but so far you have managed to take all of forty-five minutes."

"Is that bad?" Harry asked innocently.

"Yes!" growled the irate Professor, sweeping off again, Harry following closely.

"So why are going to Gringotts?" asked Harry brightly, his mood not at all dampened by Snape's stormy one.

"Haven't you ever heard of a bank?"

"Of course!" Harry exclaimed, indignant that someone would imply he had anything less than above average intelligence. "I suppose this is where we are getting money for my school stuff?"

"Yes!" squeaked Snape through gritted teeth, grateful that they had finally reached Gringotts and he might be able to find a way to get this thankless child to shut up. It seemed that his wish had come true when he was able to get to the main office without a word being uttered. Then he realized Harry had been talking to one of the goblins that guarded the entrance and hadn't been following him at all.

"...yes, I agree, the Muggle inflation rates certainly affect us in our favor, but- Ah Professor," finished Harry, noticing the looming bat figure of a man. "I was just talking with Mr. Stonepike here about the economy, and-"

"Get. Behind. Me. Now," snarled the enraged Professor. Opening his mouth to protest, Harry did as he was told. "No. Talking." And with that they swept off, leaving one bewildered goblin in their wake.

#8#8#8#8#8#8#8#8#8#8#8#8#8#8#8#8#8

The rest of the day went without relative incident until they got to Ollivander's. There were merely twelve large arguments, three death threats, and only one major explosion.

By the time they had arrived at Ollivander's, Snape was looking admittedly more frazzled than at any time he had ever been at in his entire life. In contrast, Harry was brimming with energy, practically dancing at the thought of getting a real magical wand. Snape took one look at the dark shop and decided his nerves couldn't take anymore.

"I'm going to go get you, uh.." Snape scrambled, trying to find a reason for avoiding being in he middle of the chaos that was sure to follow. "An owl! I'll you get you an owl!" he exclaimed, as Harry gave him what had to be an amused look. "You just go in, and I'll be right back." Snape waved him in before shooting off in the opposite direction, his billowing robes flapping around.

Harry walked into the wand shop, shaking his head, amazed at how long it had taken to get rid of the Professor.

Harry walked into the dark shop, the sudden lack of light not bothering him. Tilting his head slightly he stepped to the side, ending up behind a startled Ollivander who was in full "creep people out" mode. He looked around bewilderedly while Harry sniggered in the shadows.

"Hi!" he shouted, coming up behind the old man suddenly, making him jump at least three feet in the air, unwittingly pulling the wandmaker's trick back upon him.

"Ah, Mr. Potter," Ollivander said, trying to regain some dignity at being beat at his own game by an eleven year old. "I was wondering when I'd be-"

Harry cleared his throat and waved his hand in 'a little faster please' gesture, looking bored. Scandalized, Ollivander walked up to a shelf, and pulled down a dusty old box. Blowing some of the dust towards Harry in a decidedly unfriendly way Ollivander opened the box and offered the contents to the blind wizard.

As soon as Harry touched the wand he knew something was wrong. The wood felt too fragile, almost as if it were made of glass, and it started to tremble in his hands. The wand seemed to sense it too, for it somehow sucked strength from Harry, making him feel weak and sleepy.

Then, whether through some gross miscalculation of Harry's strength or the attempted reinforcement came too late, the wand exploded in Harry's hand with a soft pop. Shards of wood flew everywhere as Ollivander ducked, leaving Harry and the rest of the shop to take the full force of the impact.

Seconds later Ollivander stood up to see a stunned Harry covered with bits of wood, various small cuts, and even a piece of unicorn hair.

"Huh," was all Ollivander said, sounding for all the world as though Harry had just started an interesting philosophical debate rather than blown a wand to bits.

"I don't think I want to do this anymore," Harry said, gingerly placing whatever was left of the wand on Ollivanders' desk.

"Here, try this one," the old wand-maker said, completely ignoring Harry's last statement. Harry looked at him as though he were crazy, and started to object, but Ollivander sent him a venomous glare that promised pain if he did not comply. Quickly swallowing his protests, Harry vaguely wondered if Ollivander could threaten his customers, and reasoning that if Ollivander did decide to attack than he could always through a wand at him. Those things seemed like very good weapons, even if not in the way he would've imagined.

So, with more than a little caution, Harry gingerly gripped the offered wand. Nothing happened. Harry breathed a sigh of relief but Ollivander looked disappointed.

"That doesn't seem to-" BOOM. The wand went up in a ball of fire that rocked the rafters. Out on the street people jumped as the roof began leaking dark colored smoke before shaking their heads ruefully and returning to whatever they had been doing. When the smoke cleared it revealed a very burnt looking Harry and Ollivander, both with their hair standing on end and Ollivander's glasses cracked.

"I really, really don't want to do this anymore," Harry coughed.

Across from him, Ollivander started to shake with silent laughter. Harry noticed this and started to walk out of the shop, mumbling something about finding a wand in another store, and crazy old men who threatened their customers and then laughed at them.

"No, wait!" wheezed Ollivander. Harry waited as the wand-maker got himself under control. "I think I have something for you," he said, walking to the back of the store. Harry could've sworn that the man was still laughing at him. But when Ollivander returned, it was not a smile he was carrying. It was a wand.

Instantly Harry knew this wand was different. It jet black, almost blue, silver runes spilling out in a chaotic sprawl from the handle down to the sparkling tip. A soft glowing light incased its six inch long frame. Harry reached out, entranced, and just barely brushed it with his fingers.

It was like nothing he had ever felt before. Light shot out all around him, illuminating the dingy little shop. Jolts of power ran up his arm before running back down again. He could hear a kind of hissing in his head. It was like being shocked with a thousand volts of electricity, but Harry felt no pain. Instead, all he felt was a wild exuberance, a feeling that, no matter what, he would always win.

And then it was gone. Harry looked around dazedly, just in time to see Ollivander wrapping up the- no, his- wand.

"Well, Mr. Potter, it seems I have found a wand for you," Ollivander said as casually as though this sort of thing happened every day in his shop.

"What was that?" For the first time in six years Harry didn't know what was happening.

"That, Mr. Potter, is what happens when a very powerful wizard becomes bonded with his wand," Ollivander said, and for the first time something like excitement slipped into his normally monotonous voice. Then he muttered under his breath, "The next few years are going to be fun."

A/N

Okay, so this is my next chapter. I was going to keep Harry's original wand, but this one wouldn't let me. As for the rest of BLB, I've got through GoF mapped out. This is going to a group fic, which means that this will incorporate Hermione, Ron, Neville, Luna and Ginny along with Harry. They each will be very strong in their own right. Their specialties will be:

Ginny-seductress

Ron-sword fighter and beast master

Hermione-Seer and healer

Neville-Potions Master

Luna-Muggle Mad Scientist

Harry-wandless magic specialist

There will probably be no pairings, but is they are, they won't be canon. Please R&R. That does not mean Rest and Relaxation.


	3. Things That Have a Bigger BOOM

Harry walked out of Ollivander's, his money bag 100 galleons lighter, his heart one hundred times heavier. Forlornly he walked over to a cafe across the street, staring at his nearly acquired all the way.

"Stupid old man," he muttered, scowling. "Why'd he have to go and put this on?" Harry wondered angrily, staring at a small wooden charm at the end of his new wand.

_Flashback_

_Harry pointed dumbly at the wand on the counter. "What's this?"_

_"Your wand, Mr. Potter," Ollivander replied as though he thought Harry was loosing it._

_"No, I mean _this_," Harry said suspiciously, gesturing at the small carved charm in the shape of a tree now attached to his wand._

_"Ah, that is a charm which reduces magic," Ollivander said as calmly as though he were discussing the weather._

_"What?!" demanded Harry._

_"Mr. Potter, that display back there shows me that you are incapable of controlling your magic. If you tried anything less than an Unforgivable it would blow up in your face. You can't learn magic if you don't even have enough control to do the spells."_

_"But-"_

_Ollivander held up a hand. "Do not worry, I will remove it your second year of school. You will have learned enough control by then."_

_"You can't-"_

_"Do you want the wand or not?"_

_"Fine," Harry grumbled, pulling out his money bag._

_"Let's see, that'll be ten galleons for the wand, and ninety for the damages."_

_Back to Real-time_

Harry lumbered slowly up to a cafe across the street, mulling over his conversation with Ollivander. If he had to be honest with himself, he was scared. Scared and angry. He didn't like the fact that someone other than himself could limit him like that. Magic was the force in this world, and he didn't like being less than his best. It reminded him too much of those years before he began to "see". When he was completely blind. When he was helpless.

With a deep sigh Harry pushed his mind away from those depressing thoughts and began to "watch" people as they walked by, loosing himself in the myriad of colors. Briefly he wondered where the hell Snape was, and if he was ever coming back for him.

_"Not that I would mind not going back to the Dursleys,"_ Harry thought, amused and relaxed, sipping at some tea he had ordered. He was just beginning to nod off when something caught his eye.

At first all he could see was the flame. It was an orangish red color, and reached high above the rooftops. Harry vaguely wondered if something was on fire, and if so why nobody seemed concerned.

Then the source of the strange inferno stepped into sight. It was just a boy, perfectly ordinary, except for the blazing fire surrounding him and his mop of hair which was the same color. Harry shrugged, guessing that it was the same thing as the colors surrounding everyone else, just bigger. If it was really unusual then somebody would be making a big deal, right?

Letting his mind drift away from strange anomalies that he could not explain, Harry focused instead on his tea, which was beginning to get cold. Vainly he tried to swallow the lukewarm tea before it got any colder. And then a second thing caught his eye.

It was a girl, the same age as the boy, if Harry wasn't mistaken, but what made her different and the same from every other wizard or witch thronging on the street was that she appeared at though under water. He watched, fascinated, as the girl took a breath without constriction, and then let it out in a bubbling crescendo until it reached the confines of her personal lake and burst upon contact with the open air. Her bushy brown hair and clothes appeared dry, and didn't float as though she where under water.

With an amused glance, Harry turned back to the boy-on-fire, and then again to the girl-under-water, realizing that if they both continued at the same rate they were going in the same direction, they would run into each other right in front of him.

He was quite delighted when he found out he was correct.

"Ahh, Professor McGonagall," said a woman who looked like she was the fire-boy's mother to the person who was leading the amazing water girl. "Who have you got with you?" she asked kindly.

"This is Hermione Granger, Molly. She's a muggleborn. Miss Granger, meet Molly Weasely. She has quite a few children at Hogwarts." This made Harry's ears twitch. _Hogwarts students?_

"Nice to meet you," Miss Granger said politely, even throwing in a small curtsy, which was sufficiently amusing for Harry as water swirled around her.

"Why, aren't you darling? This is my son, Ronald. He's a first year as well." Miss Granger nodded at the red-headed, and he blushed, making Harry wonder if he was beginning to feel the heat from his own fire.

"Miss Granger, why don't you go in and have Ollivander fix you with a wand? Molly and I have something to discuss." Miss Granger just smiled and nodded.

"Ron, you go to. See if you can find a wand, since your father got that raise at work." The red head didn't even bother to nod before he was in the shop. As soon as the children where gone the two adults lowered their voices and Harry could no longer hear them.

Undeterred, he began to study them. Molly Weasely had that same kind of fire around her, only less than her son and more of a homey orange that the stark red. Professor McGonagall, however, was something else entirely.

Unlike everyone else he had "seen" today, she wasn't covered in water, or fire, or clouds, or even had crystals circling around like one wizard. Instead, she had a brown cat on her shoulder.

It wasn't just any cat, either. This was one large, tabby, yellow-eyed, Cheshire grinning cat, with a long tail wrapped around the Professor's body.

_Odd_, he thought. Suddenly the cat spotted him. He froze, as the cat rubbed its whiskers against McGonagall's cheek, making her stop mid-sentence and look over in his direction.

Fortunately, a distraction came in the form of Ollivander's exploding behind them. The two witches whipped around, drawing their wands. Mrs. Weasely shouted something and flames solidified in front of her in an orange shield, blocking the rain of glass and wood that was falling on her.

Professor McGonagall shouted what sounded like the same thing, except instead of a shield, the cat on her shoulder ran out on her wand arm and _hissed_ at the falling bits of glass, making them shy away. Everybody else threw up a shield or ducked for cover, only coming out when they were sure the explosion was over.

Then two children came out of what was left of the door. They were coughing, and sporting some scrapes, but both were easily recognizable as Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasely. They must have thought so too, since as soon they saw each other they instinctually lifted their wands and shouted, "You!"

"Yes, you!" came Ollivander's voice as he stood in the doorway, sounding furious. "Both of you! I told you, you were both too strong to bond with your wands at the same time, and what do you do? You both grab your wands at the _exact same time_! That's it! That is the last time I allow kids over a certain power level into my store! This is going to _kill_ my insurance!" And with that, he stomped off into the ruins of his shop.

For a second nobody moved. Then Professor McGonagall grabbed Miss Granger, Molly Weasely grabbed Ronald, and they both marched off after a quick goodbye, obviously wanting to vacate the location before Ollivander came to his senses and demanded they pay for damages.

"What happened here!?" Harry slowly turned around, gulping as he recognized Snape's voice.

A/N Sorry, this is just an unbetaed filler chapter, but its better than nothing, right?


	4. Recycling Old Acquaintances

**Chapter 4- Recycling Old Acquaintances to Make New Friends**

Harry sat in the second smallest bedroom, feeding his owl and feeling generally amiable towards the world. He had a new room that _wasn't_ smaller than the average broom cupboard, and owl that had given Snape claw scars but was perfectly friendly with him, and he was a wizard. Yes, life could not get better than this.

Snape, however, would disagree with Harry's assessment. He was currently struggling with what he was going to say to Dumbledore. On the one hand, he yell and scream and raise a hula-baloo for someone whose father he had been a sworn enemy of, and sit through a "M'boy, this is for the best," lecture by his boss, _or_ he could just tell McGonagall and sit back and watch the fun ensue. Hmm, choices, choices...

"Minerva!" Snape called, spotting a stern-looking cat stalking something a few corridors ahead of him. The cat's head snapped up, surprised, and she jerked around to see the foreboding Potion's Professor bearing down on her. With a hiss that most certainly would not have translated favorably she quickly morphed back into human form, with which she used to glare Snape to a stop.

"What is it, Severus?" She asked icily, before spitting out a moth wing that was still stuck in her eyeteeth from her cat form.

"Well, I'm just supposed to pass along a rumor that I heard from the professor who went to pick up the Potter brat," Snape sneered.

"Huh, I hear that that such professor was _you_, Severus," McGonagall said sternly, straightening her hat.

"What, _me_?" Snape scoffed, feigning indignity rather wonderfully, since that was what he still felt at being asked to pick up Potter. "We both know that even Dumbledore isn't that senile." All he got was a disbelieving snort from McGonagall, with which he silently agreed with.

"I believe it was Trelawney," Snape offered, preying on Trelawney's inability to give a straight answer, and McGonagall's and Trelawney's amusing rivalry, thus driving another nail into Dumbledore's coffin. "Well, I heard it from Flitwick, who heard it from Pomphrey, who heard from Filch, who said that Trelawney had said that the Potter brat, was, well, not _well_." Snape concluded, patting himself on the back for conceiving such a convincing lie. McGonagall, of course, didn't see through it.

"What do you meant, _not well_?" she demanded, puffing up like a mother hen, curiously similar to the way Pomphrey did it.

"Well, a disability, if you must," Snape said, with counterfeit discomfort.

"_What is it_?" McGonagall whispered so calmly, so scarily, that Snape was beginning to rethink his brilliant plan of misleading her.

"Minerva, he's blind." For a second, the universe seemed to stop as McGonagall processed this. Her eyes narrowed, her lips pursed into non-existance, and her nostril flared so broadly that Snape was worried that they would split apart. Then, with a murderous look she stalked off to find Dumbledore.

As soon as she was out of sight Snape breathed a sigh of relief, glad that his plan had worked, but even more glad that he had made it out alive.

#$%^&*()!#$%^&*()!#$%^&*()!#$%^&*()#$%^&*()!#$%^&*()!#$%^&

It was a beautiful day. The sun was shining, the birds were singing, and there wasn't a single cloud in the sky.

Harry Potter hated it. He honestly felt that at that moment everyone should feel as miserable as he was. It was not because he was spoiled, or that he was a misanthrope. It wasn't even because he was feeling particularly irritated at that moment.

No, it was because he was really, really, really, really, really, really, _really,_ PO'ed.

He had been standing at the same damn pillar for the past fifteen minutes, trying to figure out what in the world he was supposed to do. His ticket said Platform 9 3/4. Well, there was Platform 10, there was Platform 9, and 3/4 of the way between there was nothing but a stupid pillar and some accumulated rubbish. He had been here five minutes and was seriously considering just pulling out his wand and waving it about to see if anything would happen, Statute of Secrecy be hanged.

Thankfully for him at that very moment the fire boy from Diagon Alley, his mother, and whole new horde of redheaded fire children came whistling past, making Harry wonder if that was what it felt like to be in the middle of furnace. He coughed gently, form smoke that wasn't there.

Attracted to the sound of a sick child like a bee to honey Mrs. Weasely turned around in order to make sure that he was not dying of plague or any other officious ailment. Noticing his rather obvious owl and trunk she exclaimed,

"Oh, you must be wizard!" very loudly, so that all the Muggles turned to look at her strangely and her children looked embarrassed.

"Mum," one of them said plaintively. She ignored them.

"Is it your first time at Hogwarts?" she asked, whispering this time. Harry warily nodded.

"Oh good, its Ron's first time too!" she gestured enthusiastically towards the human pillar of fire.

Looking as though he was trying to make up for his mother's embarrassing scenes Ron offered his hand with an apologetic smile. Wincing slightly Harry shook it, expecting to be instantly burned to crisp, or, worst case scenario, to spontaneously combust, but he was lucky. This time.

"I'm Harry," he said, smiling, glad to be alive. The rest of the Weaselys introduced themselves. There was the tall and yellow flamed Percy, who gave a curt nod before re-arranging his tie, the Weasley twins, easily identifiable because Fred had a slightly darker red shade of flame than his brother George, Ron, the tower of power himself, and last and certainly not least a pretty girl Ginny, with a violet-colored flame who was a year younger than Harry.

"Its very nice to meet you," Harry said, feeling slightly overwhelmed. The Weaselys gave him no chance to recover, however. With a slight panic that there was only ten minutes before the train left, they hurriedly explained the concept of the 3/4 pillar, which Harry thought was brilliant, before Mrs. Weasely dragged Ginny on through the barrier, Percy and the twins seconds behind. With a feeling of shared foreboding Harry and Ron looked at each other.

"Full speed?"

"Straight ahead."

They both nodded, and ran full tilt at the barrier. At the last instant they closed their eyes, both convinced that they were going to crash but felt nothing as they passed the barrier. Harry was so delighted at surviving his second near-death experience before lunch he was nearly jumping up and down, his hair flying all over the place.

Harry turned to see Ron staring at him with a dumbfounded expression on his face. Too late Harry realized that his hair must have parted to reveal the damage on his eyes. He braced himself for a storm of pity that he had been hoping to avoid for, well, ever.

"You're Harry Potter," was all Ron said, still looking stunned. It wasn't what Harry was expecting, but he disappeared into the crowd an instant afterwards, before Ron could gather his thoughts and start fussing over him.

Harry sat on a compartment on the Hogwarts Train by himself, and was carefully looking over each and every one of his new textbooks, familiarizing himself and delighted he could actually see the words. Technically he couldn't read, having never been taught anything other than braille, because you need to see in order to be able to look at the pages for regular letters.

But he was very good at braille and with a pocket translator for some of the more obscure letters, like "q" he was making good progress. Writing, however, was considerably harder. The best he had managed was an r that looked more like an o. He was seriously considering giving up on the writing thing and maybe finding a spell that wrote for him. Magic could do that, right?

Harry didn't even realize that the compartment door had opened until the person coughed. In the door stood Ron, flooding the train with so many flames that for a second Harry actually thought it was on fire.

The stared at each other awkwardly, not really sure what to say.

"So," Harry said, feeling bad. He had only officially known Ron for fifteen minutes and had already ditched him, but on the other hand if Ron started giving him a pity party he was out the door until he learned how to handle himself.

Ron took a gulp of air. "You're Harry Potter," he started, looking apologetic, as if he thought that statement alone would send Harry shooting off in the other direction. Instead he just waited patiently for Ron to continue.

"And I would like to be your friend," Ron said. Harry waited for the 'because you need me to help you' bit, but it never came. Harry smiled.

"I'd like that."

It wasn't until they a good halfway there that the compartment was disturbed by anyone other that the very nice witch who pushed the candy trolly who they proceeded to buy excessive amounts of candy off of.

They had begun talking about their lives, generally getting to know each other. Ron talked about all his brothers, Bill, the big time curse breaker, Charlie, a dragon tamer, Percy the stuck up prick, Fred and George the infuriating troublemakers, and Ginny, the annoying younger sister. Harry listened, enchanted with the novelty of so many unique people living under one roof. With the Dursleys they were basically slightly different variations of the same person. No fun at all, but the Weasely's seemed incredibly diverse.

Ron was just as mesmerized with Harry's relatives. Muggles, in all shapes and forms were fascinating to him. Like most wizard children his age the only Muggles he had ever come across were in comic books and old histories. Harry had a wonderful time explaining to him the simplest things, like how a kitchen appliance worked.

"...and then when its done, the toast pops up!"

"I don't get it," Ron shook is head. "How does the toaster know when the toast is done?"

"You can set the time with a little knob, and that tells when the rest of the toaster when you want it to stop," Harry patiently explained.

"Actually its slightly more complicated than that," a new voice added. In the doorway stood a girl about Harry and Ron's age with bushy brown hair and large teeth who looked like she was just itching to correct Harry, in the most polite way possible, of course.

"What would you know?" Ron asked, trying to sound rude but all he came off as was curious.

"I'm muggleborn," she answered, taking a seat next to him in a very dignified manner, as though expecting Ron to argue with her about it. Her posture said very clearly that she was ready to argue back.

Instead Ron just asked her to continue. Harry managed to follow them up to the point where they were talking about circuit boards in computers before he was completely lost. Granted, Ron was looking even more confused than Harry, but at least he had interest in the subject. Harry honestly couldn't care less about electronics, and electronics felt the same way about him.

It was due to this that he noticed the boy in the doorway the girl had left open before anyone else in the compartment.

"Hey, what's up?" he asked, and the boy nearly jumped through the roof.

"I just came looking for my toad. Hermione," here he gestured at the bushy haired girl, "promised to help me look for it. But I guess she got distracted." The boy looked forlorn. "I guess I'll go look for him myself," he was already halfway down the hall before he finished his last sentence.

"Here I'll help," Harry shouted after him, running to catch up. He figured that Ron wouldn't miss him, he was so busy, and it was not fair to this boy or Hermione to make her go looking for toad again or send the boy away without help.

"Th-thank you." Obviously the boy had not been expecting the assistance. "I'm Neville Longbottom."

"Harry. Now Neville, your toad wouldn't happen to the color of dark wood, would it?"

"Um, yeah," Neville said confusedly.

"Then I think I found him." Harry pointed to a spot on the other side of the train, where the wood paneling had a very odd looking bump. Then the bump opened its eyes.

"Trevor!" Neville shouted, grabbing his toad quickly before it could escape again.

"Ah, there's nothing like the love of a boy and his toad," Harry said, shaking his head. The Harry and Neville went back to the compartment where Hermione and Ron where still talking, and they enjoyed the rest of the evening by Neville trying to teach Harry exploding snap. It was the most fun Harry had ever had.

**

* * *

AN**-OMG a chapter!!! Where the hell did this thing come from? Actually I just wrote it umm, about nine seconds ago, so its completely unbetaed. Even I haven't really read the thing. So be honest in reviews, and yeas, I will try to update more often.

Hope you enjoyed.


	5. A Sorting a Sight Short

"Well, that's him," Snape said grudgingly nodding towards the mob of first years who had just filed in after McGonagall.

"Ah, yes, M'boy, there he is indeed," Dumbledore said, squinting off in the wrong direction. Snape rolled his eyes and cursed his luck that he had to sit next to Dumbledore this year instead of McGonagall, who now had his previous job of introducing the first years to the castle. Honestly, you make one little threat to a room full of firsties and suddenly you can't be trusted...

!#$%^&*()_!#$%^&*()_+!#$%^&*()_!#$%^&*()_+!#$%^&*()_!#%^&*()_

To all the other first years, the ride across the lake to was a mesmerizing glimpse of their new home and school for the next seven years. To Harry it was an exercise in torture.

The boat was a light wisp in his sight, barely seeming substantial to hold himself, Ron, Hermione and Neville. He couldn't see the water of the lake at all, but he _could_ see a large shape very far down, and little ways beyond that there were several smaller shapes, all glowing an ethereal blueish green. He clutched the sides of the boat, anxious for something real to hang on to. He had his eyes squeezed shut, but that didn't help at all. He could still see the shapes clearly, the entirety of the boat, and Ron's, Hermione's and Neville's magics.

Then they rounded the corner and Harry suddenly wished, for the first time in his life, that whatever mystic ability that let him see would just disappear. Light, in an intensity he had never felt before, was flooding through him, around him, surrounding him, drowning him, and he couldn't escape. Soon he was gasping from the intensity of it all, and then the _heat_, it felt as though it was noon in the Sahara. Something was blistering, burning, but it wasn't his skin, rather, something beneath it. He gasped from the pain, the burning _light_, and suddenly someone grabbed his shoulder.

He didn't have to turn his head to see Hermione right next to him, her face anxious, or Neville and Ron looking worried behind him. Hermione moved in front of him, and he could dimly hear her asking questions, but all he really noticed was that her magic was blocking some of the light, as though he were underwater. It was still intense, but not nearly as bad. And then, as though he knew he could do it all the time, and wondering why he had never done it before, he turned his 'sight' onhimself.

The first thing he 'saw' was his magic, which shifted from one thing to the next as soon as his mind tried to interpret what he saw. It was light, and floating, and the color of sunlight through new leaves, and smelled of feathers, but as soon as that description filled his mind, a new one settled in its place. Now his magic was ropes of dark blue with strings of silver, wound tightly around him. Then it was a fountain of gold, then a cloud of black mist. But every time he saw it change there was still that penetrating light, that he could see burning away at it, dragon's fire slowing melting a rock. He felt a sense of despair, knowing that this was wrong, in a way he could not describe, that there was something _missing_, something vital that he did not have that let the light in.

_Please, I don't know what, just HELP!_ And suddenly, the light wasn't there anymore.

Reality came back with a snap, and with it blackness beyond anything he could imagine.

"-Harry! Are you alright? Please answer me-"

"I'm fine," Harry gasped. He couldn't 'see' her anymore, but he could tell that she was there, like a faint outline, smelling strongly of water. "I-just-don't-like-boats," he grunted, the first lie he could think of on the spot.

"Its alright mate, we're there," Ron's voice came from behind him, making him jump. Besides his voice and a strong smell of burnt wood, Harry could no more locate Ron than he could the moon on an overcast night. Cautiously he waited until all his friends got off the boat, and following the sent of fire and water, followed their steps exactly. It was difficult work, especially once they joined the other students and he was jostled and other scents joined the fire-and-water one, but it still remained the strongest. Plus he just walked with the flow of the crowd, but he soon fell behind Ron and Hermione and Neville. He accidently dumped into someone smelling of rosemary, making him sneeze.

"Hey, watch where you're going!" the person said angrily, but it was muffled as though the person's mouth was covered with cloth, making Harry feel sheepish.

"Sorry," he grumbled, taking pains not to bump into anyone else. However, the person who smelled like rosemary seemed to take it as a personal insult that Harry had accidently run into their magnanimous self.

"Hey, you," the person shouted, revealing a squeaky masculine voice that grated on Harry's nerves.

"What?" Harry asked, not stopping to confront the problem, as he was still trying to catch up with Ron and Hermione and though that it was all rather silly anyway, to make so much fuss over an accident.

"Hey you, apologize for bumping into me!"

"I'm not 'hey you', I have a name," Harry said, getting more and more irritated by the minute. "And I did apologize, and you are taking life way too seriously if you just chased me through this entire crowd of people just for an apology that I _already gave_."

Even though Harry couldn't see the boy he could certainly hear him gaping at him, oddly enough. Then the smell of rosemary was mixed in with the smell of burning wood, lake water, and Neville's odd earthy smell. These did not mix well together and he was caught in the middle of a massive sneezing fit. He wasn't quite sure what happened, but he definitely caught the words "Weasel", 'wanker" and "malfoy", whatever the hell a malfoy was.

The next thing he knew he was being dragged along rather roughly by a grumbling Ron, accompanied by a fuming Hermione and Neville. Not that he could complain, really, it was preferable to blindly making his way through a bunch of people he didn't know with only his sense of smell to guide him. They eventually stopped after stumbling over a couple stairs.

"Oh, I can't believe him!" Hermione said.

"He's just a pure-bloodied fanatic, the wanker," Ron added.

"Who is?" Harry asked, confused. "Can someone tell me what happened?"

"Just a dumb kid named Malfoy insulting Hermione. Why was he was so angry with you anyway?"

"Oh nothing," Harry said, waving it away, not willing to bring it up if he had been unpleasant to Hermione.

There were a few moments of awkward silence as they all thought their own thoughts.

"By the way Harry, you should really do something about those allergies," Neville said, drawing a chuckle from everyone.

!#$%^&*()_+!#$%^&*()_

This day was just not going well for Harry. He had finally made it to the Sorting Ceremony after some rather mis-informed remarks and missing the chance to actually see a real live-well, not live- ghost, and now he was expected to walk up to a stool that he couldn't see and sit down on it and let some moldy antique sort through his thoughts. Umm, no thank you.

However, long before his name was ever called a small man came up to him discretely and introduced himself as Professor Flitwick.

"We are aware of your, umm, special circumstances, and if could come with us, your sorting will take place privately after the rest of the students are sorted."

Normally Harry would have refused, but since his ability to see had somehow turned off, for better or worse, considering what circumstances you considered it under, but decided that this time it was better to take the opportunity. Plus he didn't fancy being the center of attention, for no matter how brief a period it took him to be sorted.

Professor Flitwick lead him into the same side room that all the other new students had been in just moments before. This time, however, it was sadly bereft of ghosts.

"Professor Snape informed us of your disability," Flitwick, obviously trying to make conversation. "We just want to let you know that all of the Hogwarts staff will do their utmost to make sure that you have the support you need. Although Professor Snape also told us that you seem to have the remarkable ability to get along quite well without your sight, so I doubt that you'll need the extra assistance."

Harry felt his heart sink. Not only did the entire staff seem to know all about him, but if they were expecting him to be perfectly fine without his "sight" then would they be angry enough to throw him out if he told them that it had suddenly turned off?

He wasn't worried that he couldn't get his 'sight' back, it seemed that he would be able to turn it back on again the same way he had turned it off, but he was worried about being able to "see" living in Hogwarts, the source of light which burned his magic. He was still mulling this over when Professor McGonagall came in, and by the strong smell of mold, was carrying the sorting hat.

"If you would come over here, Mr. Potter," she said, and Harry carefully followed the sound of her voice, and then felt the sorting hat settle on his head.

'Well well well, what do we have here?' said a voice that Harry could only assume was the hat.

'They said you were clever,' the hat said dryly. 'Though its not every day that you meet a wizard that can see magic, especially one that uses their ability in lieu of their actual sight.'

Harry was startled. He had no idea that what he did was odd or unusual, nor had he ever had an explanation for his ability to see with his eyes completely useless.

'Yes, what else did you think it was?' The hat added irritably. 'I've only known about three wizards who have ever had it, and even they didn't develop it until much later in life. You are quite a remarkable wizard, Mr. Potter.'

'Yeah, except for the fact that Hogwarts is too bright for me,' Harry grumbled, feeling awkward a having tat kind of admiration directed at him.

'Well, what do you really expect when you leave your magical sight unshielded like that? I suppose you did as well as you could, seeing as you discovered it for yourself. But you really need to learn how to adjust it.'

'That's very wonderful,' Harry said sarcastically. 'But, I'm afraid that its just low on my list of priorities. And, I mean, I kind've like not being able to see and all that.'

'Well, if you're going to be a baby about it, then I'll do it for you, but remember, you have to get control of it yourself.' And with that something _shifted_ in Harry's head, and for a second Harry was afraid that it hadn't worked, before he noticed that instead of the absolute dark he had been in before, he was seeing the hat's magic, a muddy concoction of pure red, blue, green and yellow magics. He was so delighted that he barely even noticed the hat going through his memories and making little comments until he was jolted back to reality with a ringing cry of,

"GRYFFINDOR."


End file.
